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I followed the therapist back to her office, which was painted a tranquil ocean blue and had two cushy wingback chairs in front of her desk.
“Have a seat, Ellis, and please, call me Alicia,” she said with a kind smile.
My pulse was throbbing as I sat down across from her, and I tried to control my fidgety hands. It reminded me of when I was a kid, but that therapist would talk while keeping my fingers occupied with a game or puzzle. This was pouring my heart out to a virtual stranger in an office meant to feel cozy, and I suddenly didn’t know if this was a good idea anymore. Why did I need to see a therapist for a break-in?
“Tell me what brings you here,” Alicia said, taking me out of my compulsive thoughts.
I winced. “My life has gone off-kilter the past month.”
“How so?” When I noted her nonjudgmental gaze, my shoulders unwound a little. I could do this.
“My apartment was robbed. I was held at gunpoint.” I took a shaky breath. “And I’m having trouble moving past it.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
My body tensed. I felt stiff and achy, and she seemed to notice my rigid posture, which was a shift from how twitchy I’d been just a moment before. It was already exhausting.
“Trauma is as much physical as it is mental and emotional. Your body is reacting as much as your mind,” she said, and my stomach constricted. “Try to give yourself time to adjust. Sounds like you might be beating yourself up about it?”
“Suppose I am.”
“I find that men do that more than women. As if your masculinity was supposed to come into play to fight the bad guys off and be the ‘hero.’” She used air quotes on the hero part, and I nodded vigorously because she had tapped into some of my regrets about the entire incident.
I said, “In fact, I tried to control my impulses during the robbery. My ADHD has gotten me in trouble before, and that night…I tried especially hard not to jump up so I wouldn’t get shot.”
“That must’ve been so difficult.”
“It was. And I’ve been embarrassed to admit it aloud.”
But I just had during my first session with a stranger, so it must’ve really been wearing on me.
“It was a survival instinct. It went against what you thought you should do, and ultimately, you saved yourself. You didn’t pay with your life.”
“Exactly.” I blew out a breath. Fuck, she really got it.
“How else are you struggling?”
It took me a long minute to get my thoughts together, but she waited patiently.
“I sometimes have trouble being alone,” I finally pushed from my lips.
“All the time, or only in your apartment where the robbery happened?”
My throat felt dry. “Mostly my apartment.”
“Completely understandable. Some even decide they have to move. What do you do to cope?”
“My best friend Nolan lives in the same building, a floor above me, and we sometimes…” I swallowed, afraid to say it aloud as my eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“It’s okay. Take your time.” She reached forward and tapped my knee. “Nothing you say to me leaves this room. This session is all about you. Getting you better, okay?”
“Okay.” I believed her. “Nolan and I sometimes sleep in the same room…the same bed.” I winced and looked away, afraid of what she might think.
“He makes you feel safe?” Her voice was even, not a hint of surprise or aversion.
“Yeah. It started that night. I was on his couch and had a nightmare, and then I slept in his bed,” I rushed out. “It’s king-size and—”
“You don’t need to qualify it. It’s totally normal.”
“It’s not…” Wrong? “Unhealthy?”
“Lots of people hate being alone. It’s okay to want closeness from someone you care about and who cares about you.”
But I wanted to tell her it was more than that. It was this feeling deep in my gut. I liked sleeping with someone. I liked having Nolan near. Or was it just a warm body?
It was perplexing. And if he knew my feelings, what would he think?
“My advice is to take it one day at a time. Do what you need to get by in your daily life, as long as it’s not detrimental to your health and well-being. And keeping a friend close is not a terrible thing. We’ll discuss other options at our next appointment.”
On the way home, I felt freer and grateful that I’d gotten some stuff off my chest, even though I’d been nervous at first and thought it might be a dumb idea.
It was Friday night, and my bandmates and I had plans to see a local act at the Blind Pig, and for the first time since the robbery, I was pumped for it.
I told Nolan about my therapy appointment—just the basics—on the ride to meet Perry and Anthony.
